Letting Go
by jbmaunier
Summary: Never fall in love with someone if you're not prepared to let them go. Kyuhyun/Seohyun


_His mother lay on the kitchen floor, her alcohol-deadened eyes trained on the ceiling. As always, the air was thick with the smell of alcohol. He made to step around her, but she reached out and grabbed him by the leg._

_"Never fall in love with someone if you're not prepared to let them go," she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheeks._

* * *

"Forty-nine...fifty."

Cho Kyuhyun flipped through the wad of hundred-dollar bills before tucking it safely in the inner pocket of his blazer. From within another pocket, he pulled out a small manila envelope that he handed to the short, balding man before him.

"You sure this is half a pound?" The man looked up suspiciously with his rat-like eyes, which shone beneath the fluorescent lights in the washroom. They were in the men's room of Smoke and Mirrors, one of the Boss's night clubs where most of the drug dealing took place.

Kyuhyun stared back coolly and shrugged. "Weigh it yourself then." Known only as Mr. Park, the man was the head dealer south of the Han River and one of his least favourite clients. Shrewd and stingy, he remained a customer only because the Boss, Lee Sooman, needed a puppet to do his bidding in the region.

As Kyuhyun had expected, he took out the bag of white powder in the envelope and hung it from a hand-held scale, squinting at the flashing digits.

Without warning, the door of the washroom opened with a bang, the sound of club music flooding in. Kyuhyun's fingers flew to his holster, but instead of a gun-wielding cop, he saw only a girl whose eyes were widened in shock. He followed her gaze to Mr. Park, whose equally surprised expression would be comical, if not for the predicament

"Shit," Kyuhyun muttered, the Boss's words of caution ringing in his head. _Always conduct your affairs with the upmost secrecy_. But what were the odds of a random girl walking into the men's room?

"I'm so sorry," the girl blurted, dipping her head in an apologetic bow. "I swear I didn't see anything!"

"We're done," Kyuhyun said quietly to Mr. Park before grabbing the girl by the hand and dragging her away. Ignoring her protests, he led her out the back door into the alleyway behind the club, lit by the orange glow of a single street lamp.

"What's your name?" he asked, pinning her roughly against the brick wall.

"Seo Joohyun," she answered in a small voice.

"Age?"

"Twenty-one."

"School?"

She swallowed, glancing at the holster at his belt, and finally said, "Ewha Women's University."

So she was one of _them; _ wealthy, elite and utterly clueless about life on the streets. She certainly looked it, with her expensive dress, her perfectly styled hair and her large, innocent eyes. Kyuhyun doubted she would cause any trouble, but just in case...

"If you tell anyone about what you saw tonight," he said in a low, menacing tone. "I will personally find you and make sure you never speak again."

* * *

Kyuhyun's phone vibrated in his pocket and he mentally groaned. He had spent the entire night negotiating a contract with a pair of thugs from the Lower-West side and had been looking forward to some sleep.

"What is it?"

"We need to make a run," Changmin said.

"Who was supposed to do it?" he sighed, starting up the coffee maker. The sky outside the kitchen window was the faded purple of dawn, a hint of orange peaking above the horizon.

"Taemin," his friend replied. "He caught the stomach flu." The kid's record was spotless, so he must have been sick as a dog to have missed his run.

"Fine, let's go."

Within half an hour, he was sitting in Changmin's parked Mercedes, staring at the two figures in the rear-view mirror. Though they were dressed inconspicuously in jeans and sweaters, there was an alertness to their expressions, lending them the air of wolves waiting for their prey.

Kyuhyun had been in the business long enough to recognize cops, even when they were under cover.

"Shit," Changmin swore, slamming a hand on the steering wheel. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"The runner must have had a tail." Ever since their coke supplier's run-in with the police last year, the Boss had insisted that goods be dropped off somewhere runners could pick up, rather than having the exchange face to face. It was a good system, unless the goods were sitting in a dumpster in the middle of an alleyway with two cops on the lookout...

"What are we going to do?"

Kyuhyun glanced at the glowing digits on the dashboard. "When's the garbage truck coming?"

"In ten minutes."

"Guess we have to move then. Wait for me on the other side of the alley." After slipping on his sunglasses, he stepped out of the car. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he stuck one in his mouth and made a show of fumbling in his pockets. He could feel them watching him, wondering if he was the quarry they sought.

Heart racing, he casually walked up to the two men until he was a mere foot away.

"Got a light?"

He could see them hesitate and exchange glances. It was the opening he needed. Kyuhyun struck, punching one in the face and swinging around to kick the other in the groin. Both dropped to the ground, letting out groans of pain.

Without looking back, he ran straight towards the dumpster. Lifting the lid with a grunt, his eyes lighted on an oil-stained manila envelope. He grabbed it, jumping in surprise as a bullet ricocheted off the cement ground near his feet. At least they were aiming to maim, not kill; he would be more useful to them alive.

But he wasn't about to be caught, not today. He sprinted down the alleyway, making a sharp left turn and crashed into a body. Scrabbling to his feet, he found himself looking into familiar brown eyes.

It was the bathroom girl. Seo Joohyun.

The footsteps behind him were getting closer. Kyuhyun looked around frantically, spotting an overturned barrel on the side of the narrow street. He looked back at her, lifting a finger to his lips.

He leapt over and crouched down behind the barrel half a second before they arrived.

"Miss, did you see a man just now?" one of the officers panted. "Tall, dark hair, holding an envelope?"

Kyuhyun held his breath, his heart hammering.

"He ran past me..."

He let out a sigh of relief. As their footsteps faded into the distance, he slowly climbed out of his hiding place.

"Thank you," he began, but he was speaking to an empty street.

She was gone.

* * *

The autumn wind tore at his clothes, whipping his hair against his frozen cheeks as he gazed down at the simple tombstone. It had been seven years, but each year on this day, the memories of his mother would surface, bringing with them the feelings he had sealed away.

He had resented her back then, had directed the rage of an unwanted child at the one person whose attention he had craved but never attained. Each night, he had found her slumped at the kitchen table, reeking of alcohol, her glazed eyes staring past him at the ghost of the man who had left her.

Loving someone meant giving them power over you, and power was the one thing Kyuhyun refused to lose. He remembered all too well what it felt like to be powerless, to be bullied by his classmates, evicted from his home as soon as his mother was buried and left to wander the streets penniless and alone.

He probably would have died if not for that fateful night, the night he had taken refuge in the alley behind Smoke and Mirrors.

_I have a job for you_, Choi Siwon, the Boss's nephew and successor, had said, extending a gloved hand.

And Kyuhyun had reached for it, clung to the hope that the well-dressed man had offered, desperate to escape his pit of despair.

It had been a simple task, picking up a package at a subway station, but it had won him a home, a job and most importantly, a future.

The rustle of feet treading on grass pulled him back to reality.

Like the first time they had locked gazes, surprise was written across her face. This time though, there was fear in her eyes and she backtracked, looking like a terrified bird preparing to take flight.

"Wait," he called. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She watched him warily, hugging the bouquet of daisies closer to her chest, as if hoping the flimsy flowers would lend her protection.

"We're even, alright? I'll pretend I never saw you if you pretend you never saw me."

Though she nodded, she still looked at him with guarded eyes. Kyuhyun would be the first to admit that he had no conscience, but a small part of him was sorry for being the cause of her terror. If it weren't for her, he would be in prison.

Slowly, she approached him, bowing before his mother's grave. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It happened a long time ago," he said tersely.

"Time may heal wounds but the scars they leave may never fade," she answered quietly. Her eyes softened, their brown depths filled with understanding.

Her words were like a trigger, a crack in the dam he had erected to block off the painful memories that now flooded through him. He gasped as the barrage of emotions consumed him, spreading to every corner of his soul.

"She told me I was better off dead," he whispered. "My own mother..." He turned away, afraid she would see the tears that had sprung to his eyes.

Without a word, she took his hand in her own, a silent gesture of comfort. And as he cried for his lost childhood and the mother he never had, the warmth of her fingers never left his, a reminder that he was not alone.

* * *

Weeks passed, but he could not forget her. He saw her soft, forgiving eyes in his dreams, heard her sweet, lilting voice echoing in his mind when he woke.

"Hyung?"

Kyuhyun snapped back to reality. "Sorry?"

The boy who had been gazing expectantly at him let out a laugh. Despite the family resemblance, Choi Minho was nothing like his brother. A cocky, womanizing brat, he remained popular within the gang only because of his relation to the Boss and the generous rewards he offered to his crew.

"Got yourself a girl, huh?" Minho grinned, clapping him on the back. "Well you can forget about her tonight because we're going to paaarty!"

The gang cheered. Parties with Minho always meant good booze, free drugs and a pretty girl to take home for the night, none of which particularly appealed to Kyuhyun.

Nonetheless, he found himself in a fancy karaoke lounge, surrounded by the sounds of drunken laughter and terrible singing. Siwon had personally asked him to keep an eye on his brother, so there was no way he could refuse. But when Minho began wailing into the microphone, he knew he had to leave before his ears were permanently destroyed.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and headed for the side door. It was a cold, starry night, his breath fogging up before him as he flipped open his lighter with practiced ease.

"You shouldn't smoke, you know."

He looked up, the joint almost falling from his lips in his surprise. She flashed him a hesitant smile, a sweet upward curve of her lips that brought a grin to his own.

"I'm going to die anyway," he shrugged. Memories of their encounter at the cemetery flashed through his mind.

"The flowers...who were they for?" He had been so wrapped up in his own grief that he had forgotten that she had been there for a reason.

"My best friend. She died in a car accident last year." He could see the pain in his eyes, but he knew he could not erase it.

"So what brings you out here?" she asked, changing the subject. "Let me guess...friends who can't sing?"

"You too?"

She made a face. "They're all tone deaf but they're convinced they're the next SNSD."

He chuckled. "I bet you can't sing either."

"Yes I can! Don't make presumptions when you've never even heard me."

"So in your esteemed opinion, I shouldn't smoke or jump to conclusion. Anything else I missed?"

"You shouldn't frown so much." She looked up at him thoughtfully. "You look nicer when you smile."

* * *

Kyuhyun tapped his foot impatiently as he watched Mr. Park weigh the package. He had asked Seohyun to meet him behind the club at nine for a stroll by the river. Though he had met her for coffee just yesterday, it felt like years since he had seen her gentle smile.

"We've got trouble." Changmin looked up from his phone, his mouth grim. "Park Jinyoung's gang is on their way. They want to settle a score."

"For what? We've always left them alone."

"Chansung claims Minho slept with his girlfriend." The disgust was evident in his friend's tone.

Kyuhyun swore. Couldn't the shithead keep his hands off women who were unavailable?

Changmin's phone pinged."They're out at the back."

Seohyun. What if she was already there? His heart felt as if it had frozen from fear.

Shoving Mr. Park aside, he hurried out the door, Changmin at his heels. A rush of cold night air greeted him, as did hoots of laughter.

"Looks like your little friends finally decided to show." Kyuhyun recognized the speaker. It was Hwang Chansung. Though Ok Taecyeon was their leader, Chansung was undoubtedly the best fighter from the Lower-West side. Minho, his latest victim, was sprawled on his back, his face a bruised, bloody mess.

"Stop it," Kyuhyun growled.

"Stop?" Chansung's eyes were lit with rage. "This piece of shit screwed my girlfriend!"

Beneath him, Minho let out a wet chuckle. "She couldn't...keep her hands...off me." Chansung gave him a savage kick to the chest.

Minho may be an idiot who thought only with this prick, but he was still part of the gang. Kyuhyun leapt forward, aiming his fist at Chansung's face. Pain shot up his arm as he made contact with a solid crunch.

He could hear the sounds of fighting around him, but his own world had narrowed to his opponent. Chansung swung at his head and he barely stepped aside in time. He dodged again but was a second too slow; Chansung had landed a punch squarely in his stomach. He felt the breath knocked out of him as he fell to his knees, gasping for air.

"Kyuhyun!"

Her scream rang in his ear.

Seohyun.

She was in danger. He had to get her away.

To his horror, Chansung leapt towards her, wrapping one arm around her neck. He pressed a knife to her throat, the metal blade glinting beneath the moonlight.

"Stop or I'll kill her."

Everyone paused. A tense silence pressed down on them.

"Let her go."

Kyuhyun turned. It was Taecyeon had spoken.

"What the hell, man?" Chansung glared murderously at his leader. "We're on the same side."

"Are you blind? She's Yoona's friend."

The bloodlust slowly faded from Chansung's eyes and he loosened his grip. He tipped his head to the heavens, muttering a silent apology.

Kyuhyun's eyes took in the raw grief in Taecyeon's face, the sorrow in Seohyun's. He thought of the cemetery and the bouquet of bright yellow daisies in her arms.

Taecyeon took a deep breath, visibly pushing back his emotions and called out, "We're done here. Let's go. " His gang straggled behind him, Chansung giving Minho one last kick before following.

"Are you alright," Seohyun asked, rushing to his side, her eyes filled with worry. He noted with relief that she was uninjured. It had been so close. Too close.

Grimacing in pain, he climbed to his feet, pushing her away when she tried to help. He registered the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but kept his expression cool.

"So you were on their side all along," he sneered.

"What? No!"

Kyuhyun ignored her and turned away, afraid she would see past his icy facade.

He had never meant to fall in love, but somehow, she had become more important to him than his very existence. But he was a fool, for believing that he could protect her; he belonged in a cruel, dangerous world and his enemies would undoubtedly use her to hurt him. It was better if he drove her away, even if the thought of losing her was like a knife piercing his heart.

Without a backward glance, he limped away.

* * *

It had been a year since he last saw her.

He sat before his mother's grave whose carvings were barely readable in the moonlight. He had scoured the cemetery until he had found the tall white tombstone, an angel at its tip, the name _Im Yoona _engraved on the smooth marble surface.

His heart had leapt at the sight of the yellow daisies lying at the base of the grave. Unable to help himself, he had plucked a single flower from the bouquet. It was the only physical reminder he had of the girl he loved.

Closing his eyes, he conjured the image of her smiling face in his mind and brought the delicate petals to his lips.


End file.
